Batman vs Punisher
by Thundarr The Barbarian
Summary: <html><head></head>Someone is killing off Gotham's criminals, one by one. Can Batman put a stop to this killing spree before it gets out of hand? And more importantly, does he really want to? Rated T for violence, might change rating to M in the future.</html>
1. Chapter 1

_**BATMAN**_

_**VS**_

_**PUNISHER**_

**Chapter One**

It's night time in Gotham City. The rain is coming down hard in sheets, the wind blowing it at such a steep angle that carrying an umbrella is useless. Lightning brightens the night sky, making the ominous building in the distance more noticeable. Moments later, thunder roars in the heavens. It's like a scene from some campy slasher flick. No sane person would ever be out on a night like this. But then, this is Arkham Asylum. Few sane people are to be found in this area of Gotham. Years ago, when Europe was still settling this part of the continent, this structure was a military fortification, designed to protect the new community of Gotham from outside invaders. Years after it had stopped being a military instillation, it had been converted into a maximum security prison. It was second only to Alcatraz in its reputation for being escape proof. Then it was closed down again. Years went by, and it was finally bought by renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, who converted it into a maximum security hospital for the criminally insane. Now Arkham Asylum is where the most dangerous of the criminally insane are housed. There is no hope of rehabilitation for these criminals. This is where they're kept away from society, hopefully until the day they die of old age.

Inside the asylum, all is quiet. The nurses have walked their rounds. The orderlies are playing cards in the break room. The guards are checking the main entrance and the emergency exits. In the guard room, one guard, a heavy set former navy officer named Charles, is keeping his eyes on the monitors. Each monitor holds the image of an occupied cell. One monitor has the image of Harvey Dent, otherwise known as Two Face, once a respectable district attorney, now a demented madman. On another monitor is Victor Zsasz, a serial killer who carves tally marks into his own body. Right now there is scarcely an inch of flesh which isn't scarred. Another monitor has the image of Waylon Jones, a.k.a. Killer Crock, pacing his cell. But worst of all, was The Joker. No one knows his real name. He refuses to tell anyone what it is. For all anyone knows, he doesn't even remember himself. He sits in his cell, bound in a straight jacket, and just stares at the camera. His face perpetually frozen in that horrific grin. Apparently the nerves in his face were damaged by the chemicals that turned his hair green, skin white, and lips bright red. But that stare . . . Charles remembered watching the movie _Psycho_ on TV as a kid. He always thought that Anthony Perkins' grinning stare at the movie's end, after Norman Bates was captured, was the scariest thing he'd ever seen. Then he started working at Arkham Asylum, and now nothing is as scary as that damned grin. The Joker is considered to be so dangerous, he practically has an entire wing of the asylum to himself. Suddenly there's a loud explosion, somewhere in the asylum. He grabs his radio.

"Frank!" he shouts into the radio, "What happened? Where are you? What's happening?"

There's no answer, only static. He turns and looks at the monitors. One camera, which is set to monitor one of the emergency exits, has been rendered inoperative. The alarms are blaring. The orderlies and nurses all head to the panic room. The guard in the monitoring room quickly looks through the monitors which are recording the hallways. One by one the hall cameras go off line.

"There's an intruder in Sector 7-G!" says the guard in the monitoring station into his radio, "I repeat, there's an intruder in Sector 7-G! Everyone get down there right now! This is a lock-down! I repeat, this is a lock-down! Frank might be hurt, so be careful!"

"Copy that," says a crackling voice over the static on the radio.

"Ten Four," replies another guard.

"On our way," says a third.

The guard sits tight in the monitoring room. The hallway cameras keep going offline, one by one. The guard sees a pattern to the destruction of the cameras. He grabs his radio again.

"He's heading towards the cells!" he says, "Cut him off! Don't let him reach the cell-block!"

"Copy that," says one of the guards over the radio.

"Roger," says another.

"Ten . . . Hey! Stop right there!"

Gunfire echoes through the halls. Charles looks at the monitors, trying to figure out what's happening. He sees the other guards running to where the gunfire was taking place, their revolvers drawn. He hears more gunfire. Then, all is silent. He looks at each monitor, trying to catch sight of the intruder. The monitors showing the halls have all gone blank. Only the cameras in the cells seem to be working. Several of the patients seem to be agitated, as though upset by the intruder's presence. Then he notices The Joker's cell. Joker is laughing. Not just grinning that crazed, maniacal grin, but howling with laughter. Charles draws his gun and runs off towards the scariest madman in the asylum.

The Joker sits in his cell, laughing hysterically. A second later, the door to his cell blasts open with an ear ringing explosion. When the smoke clears and the dust settles, Joker's longtime partner, Harley Quin, steps into the doorway, dressed in her typical skin tight, black and red, court jester's outfit.

"Rise and shine, Puddin'!" she calls out.

"Harl, my girl!" says Joker, "Such lovely fireworks. You really went all out."

"Nothin's too good for my Mister J," says Harley.

"Do me a favor, 'Puddin'', and get me out of this damned straightjacket," says Joker, "I couldn't even touch myself while I was thinking of you."

"You was thinkin' of me?" asks Harley, as she pulls out a long sharp knife, "Aw, Puddin'!"

And she goes immediately to work, cutting the leather straps that hold The Joker's arms in place. Soon he's able to free himself from the heavy canvas restraint. He swoops Harley up in a big hug and plants a passionate kiss on her lips.

"Free at last!" he says, "Free at last! Thank God almighty, I'm free at last!"

Joker and Harley leave the cell, only to come face to face with Charles and his .357 Magnum.

"Now you two hold it right there," he says, "The cops'll be here any minute now."

"Well whoop-tee-doo," says Joker, "Like _that's_ ever stopped me before."

"Yeah?" says Charles, "Well maybe I'll just plug ya one right here and now, call it self defense. Your girl there disabled all the cameras. Ain't no one gonna know any different."

"Guess he's got us, Mister Jay," says Harley.

Joker lets out an exaggerated sigh, "I suppose so."

"Alright," says Charles, as he begins to feel he's in control, "Get your hands up!"

Joker raises his hands, but Harley hesitates. Charles points his gun directly at her.

"You too, miss!" he says, "Both hands, right now!"

Harley raises her hands as he asked. In one hand she's holding the knife she used to cut Joker free from his straightjacket. In the other, she's holding what appears to be some sort of remote control device. Charles swallows hard in an attempt to regain his composure.

"Alright, drop 'em!" he tells her.

Harley lets her arms drop to her sides, but doesn't drop the remote or the knife.

"I said hands up!" shouts Charles.

Again, Harley raises her hands, still holding the remote and the knife.

"Now drop 'em!" says the guard.

Once again, Harley drops her hands down to her sides without dropping the knife or the remote.

"No! Keep your hands up!" shouts Charles, who by now is getting very frustrated.

"Well jeez, fella," says Harley, "Make up your mind, will ya?"

"Keep your hands up," says Charles in the calmest voice he can muster, "But drop what you have in them."

"Oooooh," says Harley, as though that possibility had never occurred to her, "Okily-dokily!"

She drops the two objects on the floor. No sooner does the remote device hit the floor than a series of explosions echo throughout Arkham. Instinctively, Charles looks behind him to try and see what happened. He looks back to Harley and Joker almost immediately, only to find himself staring down the barrels of two ridiculously large revolvers.

"Whattayasay, Mister Jay?" asks Harley.

"I say we put this poor fat slob out of his misery," says Joker, and he pulls the trigger of his gun.

Charles flinches at what he thinks is going to be the end of his life. But instead of a bullet, a little flag pops out of the gun which reads '_Bang! Bang!_'. Both Joker and Harley laugh hysterically. As soon as Charles realizes the gun was a fake, he visibly relaxes a bit. He even gives the two crazy villains a bit of a grin. Then Harley shoots him with her gun, blowing his head clean off.

"Oooooo, that was messy," says Joker, and he and Harley start laughing all over again.

"I brought your stuff, just like ya wanted Mister Jay," says Harley.

"Great job, girl," replies Joker, "Now let's have some fun." And the two of them step over Charles' corpse and walk off down the hall.

Later that night, the police are on the scene at Arkham. The medical examiner has declared all of the staff dead, and E.M.T.s are taking them to the morgue. Detective Harvey Bullock is overseeing the crime scene, while Officer Renee Montoya is left in charge of keeping the reporters out of the way. Commissioner James Gordon enters the crime scene and immediately approaches Bullock.

"What have we got Detective?" he asks him.

"Five dead guards, four dead nurses, and six dead orderlies," replies Bullock.

"Do we know who did it?" asks Gordon.

"Take a guess," says Bullock as he stops the E.M.T.s from leaving with a body.

The bulky detective unzips the body-bag and reveals the face of the person inside. It's one of the nurses, her face frozen in a sick mockery of a smile. The effects of Joker's deadly toxin some call 'Smyl-X'.

"Damn," says Gordon, and he quickly zips up the body-bag again.

"They took refuge in the panic room as soon as the shit hit the fan," says Bullock, "Somehow Joker and Quin managed to pump that Smyl-X stuff into the room through the air vents. They all died laughing."

"Do we know how many escaped?" asks the commissioner.

"We're still tryin' to figure that out," admits the detective, "Why the hell would Joker want to release the rest of them nuts into Gotham anyway?"

"Probably thinks it's funny," says Gordon, "That, or it's a diversionary tactic. Keep us chasing everyone but him and his girl."

"What the hell does Quin see in that clown anyway?" asks Bullock.

"Maybe he makes her laugh," says Gordon, "Or maybe she just has a thing for the bad boys."

"Barbara ever go through that phase?"

"No, thank God," says Gordon, "And I pray she never does."

"So what now?" asks the detective.

"Keep collecting evidence," says Gordon, "I'm going up to the warden's office to see if I can figure out who managed to escape."

James Gordon heads up the stairs to the warden's office. As he opens the door he sees that the office window is wide open, the blinds bouncing off the window pane as the wind blows them. The commissioner heads over to the desk and sits down. He can tell by the heat of the hard drive that the computer had recently been used. He sees that the warden is a smoker, an ashtray full of cigarette butts is sitting on the desk. The commissioner pulls out his silver cigarette case that his wife gave him for their 25th wedding anniversary and takes out a smoke. He lights it with the Zippo that he's had since his days in the army. He takes a deep drag of his cigarette and leans back in the cushy office chair. He exhales the smoke and closes his eyes.

"So how bad is it?" he asks the darkness.

"Bad," says a raspy voice from the shadows, "Some of my worst enemies managed to break free."

"How many?"

"Enough," replies the voice.

"And where were you during all of this?" asks the commissioner.

"The Thomas Wayne Memorial Children's Hospital."

"Visiting sick kids while Harley Quin was breaking her boy toy out of the nut house?"

"In a manner of speaking," replies the voice. The man steps from the shadows, dressed head to toe in a dark gray Kevlar bodysuit. He wears black trunks over top the Kevlar, black boots, black gloves, a long black cape and cowl, with a mask designed to make him look like a giant bat. He wears a bright yellow belt around his waist with several pouches for keeping all of his incredible gizmos. And on his chest is a bat emblem set on an oval yellow shield. He is the Batman, The Dark Knight, The Caped Crusader, amongst other things. But most importantly, he was Commissioner Gordon's friend.

"Something like that, Jim," says Batman, "Actually, I was disarming several bombs that Harley Quin had set up throughout the hospital."

"What?" says Jim, "Why haven't I heard about this?"

"Because I couldn't risk telling you," he replies, "She said that if she detected any police within a three block radius of the hospital, she would blow it up. I thought it might have been a diversion, but I couldn't risk innocent lives."

"Were there even any real bombs at the hospital?"

"Yes. But whether or not she had the ability to detonate them from Arkham I don't know. But I disabled all of the timers and removed the detonators. I'll detonate the bombs safely in my Batcave later."

"So don't you have anything for me and my men?"

"Of course," says Batman, and he tosses a file onto the desk, "That is a complete list of all of the people who have escaped tonight. I've included my own lists of known associates, likely hideouts, and aliases that they're known for using. With any luck, we can catch them all before they cause too much damage."

James Gordon picks up the file and looks through a few pages. There's information here that they don't even have back at the precinct.

"Thanks," he says, "and what will you . . ." but when he looks back up, Batman is gone, " . . .be doing," he finishes to the empty room.

At the edge of town, crossing the Gotham City limits and heading straight into downtown, rumbles a big, black, nondescript van. It's driver is a middle aged man, with a strong jawline and short black hair. He's wearing a black leather trench coat. His eyes are steel gray, hard, and almost emotionless. But behind those eyes is a seething rage. And he's bringing that rage to Gotham.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_War Journal: Entry #316_

_Sunday April 3, 2011 22:00_

_Arrived in the latest war zone the other night. My arrival went unnoticed. Nobody recognized the Battle Van. That's good. I've learned that this city has its own set of costumed protectors. They obviously haven't been doing a very good job. The enemy just scored a major victory the same night I arrived. Several of their P.O.W.s escaped from a maximum security facility. I've tracked one of them down already. It's time he sees punishment._

It's after 11:00 pm at the Delta Gamma Pi Sorority House at Gotham University. It's Sunday night and the rain is coming down hard. It always seems to be raining in Gotham City. The house is unusually quiet tonight. None of the girls are watching TV in the common room. None of them are chatting with their boyfriends over the phone. Nor are they doing any sexy webcamming to pay for tuition. They had a visitor this evening. One they didn't expect. One they didn't want. One they couldn't survive. Sitting on the kitchen floor, Victor Zsasz is searching for a place to cut five new tallies into his body.

"Victor Zsasz," says a raspy voice from out of the shadows.

Zsasz gets up to his feet, the large kitchen knife he had slit the college girls' throats with held at the ready.

"That you Bats?" asks the psycho killer.

"You killed five girls tonight," says the voice, "Five girls after God only knows how many."

"Oh, I know how many," says Victor as he points to his tally marks.

"It's time you were punished."

"You gonna take me back to Arkham, Batman?"

"No."

Why not?"

The man who was speaking steps forth from the shadows, "Because I'm not Batman."

The man is wearing a long black leather trench coat. Under that he's wearing a full suit of body armor, much like what S.W.A.T. officers wear in the field. He has military issue boots on his feet, with steel plates that run up the shins. On his hands he's wearing black Kevlar gloves, nearly impossible to cut through. The only part of this man's body that aren't covered in black Kevlar or black leather are his head, which is uncovered, and his chest, which has a large white skull painted on it.

Zsasz tries to stab this stranger by bringing the kitchen knife down in an overhead motion. The stranger catches Zsasz by the wrist with one hand, twisting his arm, then striking him in the side of the ribs with his other hand, forcing the killer's arm out straight. Then in one fluid motion, the man brings his elbow down on Zsasz's arm, right above the joint, breaking it and bending it backwards.

Zsasz screams in agony. The stranger then knees Zsasz in the gut, doubling him over. Then a quick knee to the face knocks the killer back into the wall. The stranger grabs Zsasz by the throat and holds him pinned to the kitchen wall. He reaches into his trench coat, behind his back, and pulls out a very large, very sharp looking, Bowie knife.

"You killed five girls tonight," says the stranger.

He shoves the blade of the Bowie knife into Victor Zsasz's gut, just under the left side of the ribcage. Then he pushes down on the handle, cutting the abdomen from rib to pelvis.

"That's one," says the stranger.

Then he pulls the knife out and stabs him again, this time just a couple inches to the left of the first cut. Once again, he cuts through the abdomen from rib to pelvis.

"That's two."

The stranger repeats the cuts two more times, until it Victor Zsasz has four long vertical cuts going down his abdomen.

"And this," says the stranger, "makes five."

And with that, he slashes the killer deeply across the abdomen, leaving him with five lethal tally marks.

"Wh . . . Who . . . are . . . you?" asks Victor Zsasz as the stranger is walking away.

"The Punisher," comes the reply from the shadows.

Early the next morning, before the sun even comes up in a vain attempt to chase away the gloom in the city, Gotham Police are at the Delta Gamma Pi Sorority House. Their crime scene unit is going over the place with a fine tooth comb, looking for any evidence they can find. Detective Harvey Bullock is overseeing the investigation. Commissioner James Gordon enters the crime scene.

"Whatcha got Harvey?" asks the commissioner.

"Gas," says the detective, "I never shoulda eaten that leftover pepperoni pizza before comin' here."

"I mean with the crime scene, wise ass."

"Near as I can figure, Victor Zsasz added five new sorority girls to his body count, then cut a little too deep while addin' up his tally."

"You really expect me to buy that?" asks the commissioner.

"Nah," admits Bullock, "Be nice if it were true though."

"So what happened here?"

"Best guess?" asks Bullock, "I'd say Bats got here too late to stop Victor from doing his thing and ended up gettin' some payback."

"You actually think Batman did this?"

"Hey, all I'm sayin' is that anyone who dresses up like a bat ain't alright up in the head."

"I'll keep that in mind. In the meantime, get me some more suspects. Has the back porch been cleared yet?"

"Yes, sir," replies Bullock.

"Good. I'm going out for a smoke. Let me know if you find anything useful."

"You got it, Boss," says the detective.

James Gordon goes outside and lights up a cigarette. After taking a couple of drags, he hears the expected raspy voice.

"Those things aren't good for you, you know," says Batman.

"That's what my wife keeps telling me," says the commissioner, "I keep telling her I'm planning on quitting."

"And have you?"

"Still planning on it."

"You know I didn't do this," says Batman.

"I know," replies Gordon, "Harvey just finds you a convenient scapegoat."

"Do you have any suspects?"

"Hundreds," says Gordon, "Every one of those scars on Zsasz's body represents someone with a father, brother, boyfriend, husband, uncle, nephew, or lover who would love to see that bastard dead."

"As good a place as any to start looking," says Batman, "Focus your search on victims who have family members with martial arts, military, or police backgrounds."

"Police?" says Gordon, "You don't think one of my own men could have done this!"

"Just a precaution, Jim," says Batman, "Whoever killed Victor Zsasz last night, disarmed him, broke his arm, his ribs, his nose, and then systematically carved tally marks into his gut that are so deep the blade nearly exited his back. That takes tremendous strength, and extensive training in hand to hand combat. It may not be an officer from the Gotham City Police Department. He may be from another city or town altogether. But you would be negligent if you were to ignore the possibility."

"Have you found anything useful?"

"I've collected some samples, and will be running them through my lab in The Bat Cave. I don't know if they'll turn anything up yet. I have a gut feeling they won't. I think this vigilante is smart enough to use forensic counter measures."

"So you think it's another vigilante?"

"Conclusively? I don't know. It's the best theory I have at the moment though. I'll keep you posted."

Commissioner Gordon flicks his cigarette butt out into the lawn. Trusting in his unusual friend's insights, he turns around and heads back inside to talk to his detectives some more.

_War Journal: Entry #317_

_Monday April 4th, 2011 11:00_

_Last night's engagement of the enemy was a success. Regretfully I was unable to prevent the collateral damage of five civilians. However, I was able to dispatch the enemy quickly, cleanly, and without having to expend any ammunition to do so. While I don't expect this pattern to hold for long, the longer I can keep the local authorities from getting wind that I'm here, the more of the enemy I can eliminate._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Far beneath the grounds of stately Wayne Manor, in The Bat Cave, Batman is hard at work going over the crime scene photos he had taken at the sorority house earlier that morning. Every screen on his Bat Computer is filled with details on the crime. One screen has the mugshots of Victor Zsasz and his criminal history on it. Another has a list of the surviving relatives of all of Zsasz's victims. For the sake of comfort, Batman has removed his mask and cowl revealing himself as billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne. Coming down the stairs from the Wayne family mansion is Bruce's butler, Alfred Pennyworth, carrying a tray with a steel thermos and a coffee cup. He pours a cup for his employer and hands it to him.

"Last night's murders?" he asks.

"Thank you, Alfred," says Bruce as he accepts the offered cup of coffee, "Yes. Something about it bothers me."

"If you ask me, Master Bruce, it couldn't have happened to a nicer chap."

"No arguments here," agrees Bruce, "If anyone deserved what happened to Victor Zsasz last night, he did."

"Then why are you puzzling over this?" asks the butler.

"Because last nights killer was too good. Too efficient. He got in and out without being seen, and left no trace evidence behind."

"A professional perhaps?" suggests Alfred, "Maybe Mr. Zsasz crossed the wrong people. That tends to happen with these criminal types."

"Possibly," says Bruce as he sips his coffee, "But my gut tells me that last night was just the beginning."

_War Journal: Entry #318_

_Tuesday April 5th, 2011 18:00_

_Tracked one of the enemy into the sewers. This is a bad one. A killer, and a cannibal. He's also one of those super powered types. Stronger, faster, tougher than most normal people. Gonna take some recon to prepare. According to research, most small arms fire only gets him angry. I'll have to see what I can do to change that._

In the sewers beneath Gotham City, an explosion echoes throughout the labyrinth of tunnels. Then a series of shotgun blasts, one after the other. Frank Castle, otherwise known as The Punisher, runs desperately through the network of tunnels, splashing through the filthy sewer water as he tries to stay ahead of what's chasing him. Following not far behind is Waylon Jones, better known as the super criminal Killer Croc. Born with a rare form of atavism, his body is covered in green scales, his teeth are long pointed fangs, and even his eyes have taken on a reptilian appearance. As he gets older, his features and mannerisms become more and more bestial. His skin is as thick as that of an actual crocodile, making him practically invulnerable to all but the most high powered firearms. The Punisher runs straight into a dead end. He turns around and draws a pair of .9 mm Berettas and opens fire. Thirty rounds are squeezed off in a matter of seconds, and still Killer Croc keeps coming. The Punisher reaches up and grabs a length of rope dangling down from the pipes along the ceiling, giving it a good tug. The rope releases what appears to be a really large double barreled shotgun. Frank catches it as it drops, then backs up against the wall, pressing the butt of the rifle against the bricks and pointing the barrels at Killer Croc. When Croc sees that his quarry has nowhere else to run, and was reduced to using a double barreled shotgun, he slows his pace down to a walk and approaches slowly, chuckling.

"Your grenade messed up my hideout," he says, "Your guns didn't even slow me down. Buckshot bounces offa me like hail stones. Once You empty them barrels, I'm gonna eat your face."

"You're missing one vital fact," says Frank.

"Yeah?" says Killer Croc, "And what's that?"

"This isn't a shotgun," and he fires one of the barrels point blank into Croc's chest.

Killer Croc goes flying backward into the sewer wall, a gaping hole in his chest. His blood pours out of the wound. Croc clasps his clawed hand over the bullet hole in a futile attempt to stop his life's blood from slipping away. He slumps down to the sewer floor, looking at The Punisher with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Wha . . . Wha . . ." he gasps as he tries to speak with blood filling his lungs.

"Elephant gun," says Frank, "Designed to take down a charging bull elephant at five hundred yards. Point blank range? It'll even cut you in half."

"Who . . ." gasps Killer Croc.

"They call me, The Punisher."

With that, Frank Castle aims the elephant gun right between Killer Croc's eyes. Croc's eyes widen in fright, then The Punisher pulls the trigger. The back of Waylon Jones' head explodes, splattering blood, brains, and gore all over the sewer wall. The Punisher slings the spent elephant gun over his shoulder and calmly walks away.

Hours later, Gotham City Police are in the sewers investigating the scene. Harvey Bullock is the lead detective on this one as well. Police Commissioner James Gordon climbs down into the sewer through a manhole and sloshes over to the detective.

"Whatcha got Harvey?" asks the commissioner.

"Kidney stones," says Bullock, "I think I'm becoming lactose intolerant."

"I'm becoming bullshit intolerant!" snaps Gordon, "So unless you want me to bust you down to crossing guard, I suggest you quit with the lousy attempt at humor and tell me what you know about this murder!"

"Sorry sir," says the detective, "Well, all we know for sure is someone did in Killer Croc with a really big gun."

"What kind?"

"Don't know yet," says Bullock, "But judging from the size of the GSWs, I'd say some kinda rifle. Maybe for huntin' big game like grizzly or somethin'."

"Any ideas as to who the shooter is?"

"Ya mean aside from people who dress up as a bat?" asks Bullock, "Suspect list starts with me and goes around the block . . . twice."

"Any theories?"

"I think someone was really pissed off at him."

"Any useful theories?"

"He might make a nice suitcase."

"Thanks," says Gordon, "You wrap things up here. I'm going topside for a cigarette."

Commissioner Gordon climbs back out of the manhole and heads over to a nearby alley where he can get out of the rain. He lights up a smoke, and almost on cue, Batman steps out of the shadows.

"This is just the beginning," says the caped crusader in his gravelly voice.

"Is that a confession?" asks the commissioner.

"An observation," replies Batman.

"Any suspects yet?"

"No," says Batman, "Whoever this is, it's someone new. I think you have a serial killer on your hands Jim. One who fancies himself some kind of vigilante."

"Any leads?"

"The weapon that killed Waylon Jones was likely an elephant gun. I found ropes tied to the pipes on the ceiling above the body. Judging from the way they were tied, it was likely to support a very long object. The bullet holes in Jones' chest and head were made from a very large caliber weapon. And since he was only shot twice, this indicates elephant gun."

"How do you figure that?"

"Elephant guns are two barreled weapons, like very large shotguns. This killer seems to have a taste for overkill. If he could have fired more bullets into his target, he would have."

"You sure about that?"

"It's a reasonable assumption," says Batman, "Victor Zsasz had lethal tally marks carved into his abdomen, when a simple stab through the heart would do. He could have carried the elephant gun into Killer Croc's hideout and gunned him down there. Instead he lured him here where he had stashed the gun beforehand. Although that could have been for tactical reasons, but the shot to the chest would have been fatal, even to someone like Waylon Jones. The shot to the head was unnecessary overkill."

"You know all this, yet you don't have any suspects."

"I know his modus operandi and his signature," replies The Dark Knight, "The rest will take more time."

"Let me know when you learn something I can use," says Gordon.

But there's no answer. As silently as he arrived, Batman had already left.

"I hate it when he does that."

_War Journal: Entry #319_

_Tuesday April 5th, 2011 23:45_

_Tonight's mission was a success. As suspected, the hand grenade from the initial encounter with the enemy was less effective than I would have preferred. Reports of the enemy's ability to absorb unusual amounts of punishment were not exaggerated. The enemy was easily lured to my secondary position. The elephant gun was most effective. I will have to remember that in the future._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Once more, Bruce Wayne sits at the Bat Computer in the Bat Cave. On the main screen are the mug shots and police reports on both Victor Zsasz and "Killer Croc" Waylon Jones. On side screens are lists of names of family members of both criminals' known victims. Bruce slumps in his chair, his hands steepled together in front of his chin. Once more, the ever dutiful Alfred comes downstairs with coffee. This time the butler has brought along a bowl of soup and a sandwich to go along with it.

"Your lunch, Master Wayne," says the gentleman.

"Thank you Alfred," replies Bruce, still staring at the screens in front of him.

"Any luck, sir?" asks the butler.

"Only the 'bad' kind," replies Bruce.

"I wish you's eat something, Master Bruce," says Alfred, "I, for one, can never concentrate on a problem if I'm feeling peckish."

"Thank you, Alfred," says Bruce, absently.

"You barely touched your breakfast this morning, sir," says the butler, pointedly.

Bruce Wayne sighs as he turns and looks at his oldest and dearest friend. In spite of himself, he can't help but grin at the old Englishman.

"Very well Alfred," he says, "You win."

"It isn't a contest, Master Wayne, sir," says Alfred, "I'm just doing my part in the fight against crime in Gotham City."

Bruce takes a healthy sized bite out of the sandwich Alfred had made for him. Ham and cheese, his childhood favorite. Well, after he had out grown peanut butter and jelly anyway. He sits and stares at the two victims a moment more.

"Are you sure that these two murders are related?" asks Alfred.

"There's no actual proof," says Bruce, "In both cases, forensic countermeasures were taken. No usable fingerprints, DNA, nothing."

"One could theorize that that is proof enough," says the butler.

"It's an educated guess," replies the billionaire, "Not much else."

He swallows a mouthful of soup, then looks to his butler with a raised eyebrow.

"New recipe?" he asks.

"Martha Stewart used it on her show last week," replies Alfred, "I figured I'd give it a try."

"I like it," says Bruce.

"I'm glad, sir," replies the butler.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Alfred asks.

"The name and address of this killer would be nice," replies Bruce.

"In that case, I shall take my leave."

Alfred turns and leaves his employer staring at the screens, eating his soup and sandwich in silence.

_War Journal: Entry #320_

_Friday April 8th, 2011 08:15_

_I've had to lay low for the past couple of days. The local authorities are all over my first two encounters with the enemy. Don't want them interfering. Too many of the enemy could escape punishment if that happens. Too many civilians could get caught in the crossfire. The first two were relatively easy. Lone wolves. Rarely ever team up with anyone. When they do, it all falls apart. Tracked one enemy to a warehouse by the docks. This one's a commander, lets others do his dirty work for him. Out of imprisonment a week and already has himself a fresh batch of soldiers. Tonight he finds out if they're worth what he's paying them._

Night time in Gotham City. It's raining again. It always seems to be raining in Gotham recently. At an old warehouse, down by the docks, two men stand by the main doors. Around back, by the fire exit, another man stands watch. All three are wearing heavy coats and hats, but none look to pleased to be there.

"You bin followin' the news?" asks one of the men out front to the other.

"I heard The Bat's been on some kinda killin' spree," says the other, "Just got Killer Croc the other night,"

"I thought The Bat don't kill nobody," says the first, "Just beats 'em up and leaves 'em for the police."

"Maybe he got sick o' them always gettin' out," says the other, "Like the boss."

"Maybe we should try someplace safer," says the first, "Like Metropolis."

"An' hafta deal with Superman?" asks the other, "Hell no! I'd rather take my chances with The Bat."

"Even if he's killin' now?"

"At least we ca . . ."

The guard is cut off in mid sentence as a bullet pierces his skull from out of nowhere. The other guard reaches into his jacket to pull out his firearm, but takes a bullet to the head before he could even grasp the handle. On the other side of the warehouse, the man standing guard doesn't see the wire noose lowering down towards him from the roof. The noose drops down the last few feet, slipping around the thug's neck. Before he can react, the thin wire is pulled taught around his neck and he is pulled up the side of the building, where he's left to dangle.

On the roof, a soaking wet Punisher calmly walks over to the buildings skylight and looks in. Far below he sees a small, unassuming looking man with a receding hairline talking to a bunch of larger, rougher looking men. Several of those rough looking men are carrying automatic weapons. Frank Castle opens the skylight and slips through, carefully dropping down onto the catwalk below. Now that he's inside, he can actually hear some of the conversation down below.

"But Mr. Scarface," says one of the men, "D'ya think it's smart t' be holdin' all this loot here? I hear Da Bat's on da warpath."

"Listen up, youz clods!" says a voice that sounds like it comes from a 1930s gangster movie, "I'm da boss here, an' what I say goes, see!"

"But Mr. Scarface, sir," says another of the men, "Dey bin sayin' dat Da Bat ain't taken prisoners no more."

There's a sudden burst of machine gun fire as the thug who had just spoken up is shot dead. The small, balding man moves about, holding up a ventriloquist dummy that's dressed like a '30s gangster and holding a smoking tommy gun.

"Anyone else got somethin' ta say?" asks Scarface. His audience goes silent. "Dat's what I thought," he says, "Now get back ta work!"

The thugs all do as they're told. One of them walks over to where they have their stolen stereo equipment set aside to be sold off to fence operations. As he rounds a stack of crates, The Punisher is there to meet him, driving a knife through his heart. Castle runs off as the thug drops to the floor. Another thug is sorting the jewelry they had taken from jewelry store heists, when Punisher comes up behind him and slits his throat. Again, he hardly waits for the body to drop before running off to his next target. A thug stands just inside the main entrance to the building, waiting for a signal from the men posted outside if they see Batman or the cops coming. There's a series of hissing sounds of a silenced handgun being fired, and the guard drops with three bullets in his heart. Another guard is walking the perimeter of the warehouse. The Punisher shoots him once through the forehead with his silenced handgun. Just inside the fire exit doors is another man standing guard. He has a pump action 12 gauge shotgun in his hands. Frank Castle shoots him once in the heart, and once in the head.

Now there are only three left. The Ventriloquist, his big, burly bodyguard, and someone who appears to be keeping the books in order. The Ventriloquist overlooks the accountant's work, while Scarface waves the tommy gun in his general direction. Suddenly, the accountant's face explodes as he's shot in the back of the head. Blood, brains, and bits of skull splatter all over Scarface's ledgers.

"What the hell?" says Scarface in shock, "Get dat sonuvabitch!"

The last thug, The Ventriloquist's bodyguard, pulls out a Jackhammer automatic shotgun and opens fire at the area behind the accountant, as that is obviously where the bullet came from.

"Where is everybody?" demands Scarface.

Then another bullet hits the bodyguard in the temple, dropping him to the floor. His hand convulses, squeezing off several more rounds aimlessly as he lies dead on the floor. The Ventriloquist turns a full circle, Scarface firing his tommy gun in all directions, shouting a primal scream of rage. Soon, the cartridge of the miniature, but very deadly, machine gun is empty.

"Come on out and face me, youz pigz!" he shouts.

There's a loud gunshot, and Scarface's wooden head explodes like an empty pinata. The dummy falls to the ground, destroyed.

"Mr. Scarface!" cries The Ventriloquist, and he drops to his knees next to his 'employer's' dead body.

As he kneels there, sobbing, he hears heavy footsteps steadily walking his way. They stop, not too far away. He looks up to see The Punisher standing there, a Smith & Wesson 500 in his hand.

"You killed Scarface," says The Ventriloquist.

"Not yet," says Castle.

"What?" says The Ventriloquist.

The Punisher raises his gun and shoots The Ventriloquist in the head. The infamous crime boss, born Arnold Wesker, collapses over the body of his alter ego, the criminal mastermind 'Scarface'. Frank Castle puts his massive handgun away, turns around, and walks out of the warehouse.

Hours later, Batman is at the crime scene examining the bodies. Detective Bullock charges into the warehouse with a host of uniformed police officers. He points his gun at The Detective.

"I got you now, freak!" says Bullock, "You're under arrest!"

"I didn't do this," says Batman in his raspy voice, "I arrived here just before you did."

"Yeah right," says Bullock, "I'm supposed to believe you?"

"I don't have any guns on me," replies Batman, "I never do. You know this. Besides, at the time that these men were killed, I was on the other side of town preventing a rape."

"Sure you were," says Bullock.

"Check the emergency room," says The Dark Knight, "You'll find two men with broken ribs, kneecaps, arms, and concussions. There will also be a cocktail waitress being treated for trauma, though thankfully I had managed to get there before they could do any real damage."

"Put your guns down!" shouts Commissioner Gordon as he enters the warehouse, "He's innocent, Detective, and you know it!"

The commissioner pushes his way past the police officers. Most of them put their weapons away as he ordered. A few of them hesitate for a minute, looking from the commissioner to Bullock and back again. After considering their options, they decide to lower their weapons. Bullock is now the only one holding a gun on Batman. Gordon glares at Bullock.

"Detective . . ."

Bullock, somewhat reluctantly, puts his gun away. Commissioner Gordon turns away from him and faces Batman.

"What have you found out?" he asks.

"You've got a serial killer on your hands," says Batman, "Someone's targeting Gotham's criminal element. And whoever it is, he's taking no prisoners."

"Any ideas on who it might be?"

"Not yet," replies Batman, "He's good. Likely professionally trained killer."

"Assassin?"

"Or soldier. Special forces, with experience in black ops most likely."

"You think one guy did all this?" asks Bullock.

"Most mafia members refer to themselves as soldiers," says Batman, "This guy actually is one. Several of the men were taken out with a rifle, likely a bolt action sniper's rifle. Some were killed with a handgun, most likely one with a silencer. Only Arnold Wesker was killed with a high powered handgun. By the looks of the bullet hole, I would guess it to be at least a .44 Magnum."

"So now what?" asks Gordon.

"Research," replies Batman, "Check local crime reports of violent crimes with victims who fit the profile. Start with crimes which are unsolved. Likely the lack of justice is what pushed this killer over the edge."

"And what are you gonna do?" asks Bullock.

"My own research," replies The Dark Knight, "Something about this seems familiar. I just can't quite put my finger on it yet."

"And if you find anything?" asks Gordon.

"I'll let you know."

Batman turns around and walks off into the shadows. Detective Bullock starts to go and follow him, but Commissioner Gordon holds him back.

"Forget it," he says, "He'll be gone before you reach the first shadow."

"I can't believe you let him get away with that," says Bullock.

"He's a useful tool in cleaning up this city," says Gordon, "Without him, we'd be in over our heads on cases like these."

"Psychos killin' psychos," says Bullock, "If you ask me, we oughtta take a vacation and let this nut finish the job. Then we'd be sittin' pretty once we get back."

"Don't let me hear you say anything like that in range of any reporters, Bullock," says Gordon, "Or I'll . . ."

"Bust me down to crossing guard," Bullock finishes.

"Just because I've used that threat before, doesn't mean I won't follow through on it."

"Sure thing, boss."

"Just secure the crime scene," says Gordon.

_War Journal: Entry #321_

_Saturday April 9th 2011 01:15_

_First engagement with an enemy who surrounds himself with soldiers. Mission was a complete success. Complete elimination of enemy cell, no survivors. The enemy in this war zone have become complacent. They expect to be treated with kid gloves by costumed protectors and police officers. They still haven't learned. I don't use kid gloves. That's okay. Just makes my job that much easier._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Gotham City First National Bank. Monday afternoon. The rain has slowed down to a light misting. It's busy in the bank, with all the tellers at their stations and the loans officers in their offices. There are several long line ups as people are waiting their turn to make deposits, withdrawals, pay their bills, etc. Just then, four people come dancing into the bank dressed as characters from _The Wizard Of Oz_, and singing one of the songs from the movie. There's Scarecrow, Tin Man, Cowardly Lion, and a very slutty looking Dorothy. And instead of carrying a little terrier in a basket, she has a great big rottweiler on a chain leash.

"We're off to see the wizard

The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz

We hear he is, he is, he is

The most wonderful wizard there was

If ever a wonderful wiz there was

The Wizard Of Oz is one because

Because, because, because, because, becaaaause!

Because of the wonderful things he does!

We're off to see the wizard

The Wonderful Wizard Of AWWWWZZ!"

Everyone in the bank applauds the performance. The four performers bow repeatedly to their audience.

"Thank you! Thank you!" says the Scarecrow, "And now, for a very special treat! Dorothy! If you please?"

Dorothy holds her basket open for The Scarecrow. Professor Jonathan Crane reaches into the basket and pulls out a gas grenade, pulls the pin, and then tosses it into the crowd. The gas immediately begins billowing out, and the people in the bank begin to panic in the confusion. The security guard pulls out his revolver and points it at the people who are about to rob the bank.

"FREEZE!" he shouts.

The Tin Man whips about and hurls his ax into the rent-a-cop's skull. The security officer drops to the floor, his revolver going off as his fingers reflexively twitch in death. Meanwhile, everyone in the bank has collapsed and are cowering in fear on the bank floor. Dorothy then pulls empty bags out of her basket and hands them to her three companions. Then the four of them proceed to fill the bags with as much cash as they can carry. Once the bags are full, they run out the door, hop in a van parked out front, then speed away. Unnoticed by the four criminals is a black van that's following them.

Minutes later the police are at the bank. Everyone in the bank is dead, their faces frozen in expressions of pure terror. Commissioner Gordon and Detective Bullock are at the scene. Despite their many years on the force, neither of them can stomach the carnage left inside. Even small children lay dead on the bank's floor.

"Y'think it was Joker?" asks Bullock.

"More likely Scarecrow," replies Gordon, "Joker's laughing gas leaves the corpses with a grotesque smile on their faces. These people didn't laugh themselves to death. They were scared to death."

"What I wouldn't give for a criminal without any crazy assed gimmics," says Bullock, "Sometimes I wonder if we're workin' in Gotham City or the WWE!"

"What do you mean, Detective?" asks the commissioner.

"Every time I turn around, we got either some new vigilante in tights, or we got some nut-job in a costume playin' at bein' a super villain. And they switch sides almost as often as the wrasslers do on TV! Cat Woman's worked side by side with Batman before. Poison Ivy has sought redemption a time or two. Even Solomon Grundy has played at bein' a hero! We might as well put a wrasslin' ring in front of City Hall and charge admission!"

"I never new you were a wrestling fan, Harv," says Gordon.

"What can I say?" replies Bullock, "I like the Divas."

Officer Renee Montoya walks up to her two superior officers.

"Ummm, sir?" she begins, "I got the statements from the eyewitness across the street."

"Yes?" says Gordon.

"Well sir," she says, "According to the witness, the bank was robbed by . . ."

"The Scarecrow," says Bullock, "We already figured that out."

"And his accomplices," she adds.

"What did they look like?" asks Gordon.

"Like . . ." she takes a deep breath, "They looked like The Tin Man, The Cowardly Lion, and Dorothy."

"Great," says Bullock, "I suppose they took Toto too?"

"Well actually," says Officer Montoya, "The witness said that they did have a rotweiler with them. He couldn't hear if they called the dog 'Toto' though."

"Anything else?" asks Commissioner Gordon.

"Yes," says the officer, "The witness said that Dorothy's costume was pretty skimpy. Like it was purchased in an adult store for use in sexual role playing."

"Is that everything?" asks Gordon.

"Everything that the witness saw," says Montoya, "They got away in a white, older model, panel van. He didn't catch the license plate. There was another older model van that followed them. This one was black. He thinks it may have been a lookout for the guys in the white van. All he knows for sure is that it had New York license plates."

"What the hell was the driver dressed as?" asks Bullock, "A flyin' monkey?"

"He couldn't see the driver," says Montoya, "The windows were all tinted."

"New York plates?" asks Commissioner Gordon.

"That's what he says," replies Montoya, "Why?"

"Because I have a feeling we're going to have four more dead bodies by the time the day is out."

At a rundown, old abandoned theater, The Scarecrow and his _Wizard Of Oz_ gang return with their loot. Jonathan Crane had found this hideout shortly after Harley Quin and The Joker broke him out of Arkham. He then found himself a gang of fellow fugitives to aid him in his latest crime spree. The Cowardly Lion is in fact a serial rapist and a hebephile with a taste for 13 year old girls named Charlie Parent. The Tin Man is actually an ex-mafia enforcer named Derek Slade, who prefers to take care of business with an ax. And Dorothy's real name is actually Dorothy Little, a former cat burglar turned mafia hit-woman. There was hardly a man she couldn't seduce or a home she couldn't break into. And her skill with knives, firearms, and explosives were practically unmatched.

"Yes!" says Charlie, "What a score!"

"Did you see how I took out that security guard?" asks Derek, "One throw from across the room and 'BOOM!' Dead!"

"That was fun," says Dorothy, "I hadn't had that much fun doing a job in years!"

"Don't celebrate too much," warns Scarecrow, "While today's heist was most satisfactory, there's still the possibility of The Batman making an appearance."

"I hear there's a new guy in town," says Derek, "Someone who doesn't take prisoners."

Suddenly the rottweiler starts growling at something in the shadows just off the side of the stage. The four bank robbers all turn and look into the shadows, trying to see who is there. Dorothy takes the dog's leash off of him.

"Sic 'em Toto!" she commands.

The rottweiler takes off after whatever had caught its attention. Toto barks and growls as he disappears into the shadows. A moment later there's the faint 'thump, thump' sound of a silenced handgun, immediately followed by the pained yelp of an injured dog. Moments later, The Punisher steps out of the shadows holding a Jackhammer automatic 12 gauge shotgun.

"Nice skull," says Scarecrow, "Very scary. If we hadn't been inoculated against my latest brand of fear gas, we'd be paralyzed with fear. But I'm afraid we're not recruiting at the moment."

"I'm not looking to join," says Punisher, "I'm here to put an end to your operation."

"Planning on taking us in are you?" asks Scarecrow.

"No."

Then without another word, The Punisher raises his Jackhammer and opens fire on the quartet of bank robbers. Dorothy dives behind the Tin Man as Castle fires. In the span of a few seconds, there's very little left of Scarecrow, Cowardly Lion, and Tin Man. Frank Castle empties the entire drum of ammunition into the three men. Dorothy makes a mad dash for the door the second the shooting stops. The Punisher drops the automatic shotgun as he casually walks over to the three slain bank robbers. He draws his Smith & Wesson 500 revolver and aims at Dorothy's back as she runs up the aisle towards the theater doors. A single, loud shot rings out as he shoots her in the back as she tries to flee. The Punisher jumps down off the stage and casually walks up the aisle towards the downed Dorothy. Then he stands over her prone form, and empties the last five shots of his revolver into her at point blank range. Then he turns around, heads back over to the stage where he retrieves his weapon, and disappears into the shadows.

Hours later, the police are on the scene. People from the coroner's office are taking the bodies to the morgue. Detective Bullock and Commissioner Gordon are standing on the empty stage, looking at the chalk outlines of Jonathan Crane and two of his _Wizard Of Oz_ gang. The massive pool of blood is congealing on the floor. They can't help but shake their heads.

"Not much left of Crane and his boys," says Bullock, "Whattaya suppose this nut hit 'em with?"

"The CSU says the shell casings were from a 12 gauge shotgun, and the perp left over thirty of them," says Gordon, "I'd say he likely had an automatic shotgun, in order to do this much damage this quickly."

"What the hell are we dealin' with here?" asks Bullock.

"If this is who I think it is," says Gordon, "We're dealing with an all out war."

"You been holding out on me, Jim?" asks a raspy voice from the shadows.

Commissioner Gordon and Detective Bullock turn around to see The Batman step out of the shadows, stage left. James Gordon gets a look of relief as he sees his caped ally approach. Detective Bullock grumbles incoherently under his breath, not too pleased at The Caped Crusader's arrival.

"Not at all," replies Commissioner Gordon, "I just received some new evidence. It's not much, but I have a hunch as to who this might be."

"Don't keep us in suspense, Jim," says Batman, "Who is it?"

"I could be wrong," says Gordon, "But we had a witness to this afternoon's bank robbery and massacre that said that a plain, black, older model van with New York license plates was following The Scarecrow's van after the heist. I'm going to have to check with the NYPD and the FBI's New York office, but I think this might be the work of New York's local vigilante, Frank Castle, also known as The Punisher."

"You came to that conclusion based on this vans license plates?" asks Batman.

"And the fact that The Punisher is known to drive a suped up black van known in the New York underworld as The Battle Van."

"Looks like you ain't the only detective around here, Bats," says Bullock.

"I've always had confidence in Jim's ability to do his job," says The Dark Knight, "I just do what I do, because I can do things that legally, you can't."

"With men like Jim Gordon around, we don't need you and never have."

"That's enough Harv!" says the commissioner.

"It's alright, Jim," says Batman, "I have always hoped there would one day be a time when Batman wouldn't be needed in Gotham City. But that time isn't now."

"I'll give you everything there is on Frank Castle just as soon as I get my hands on it," says the commissioner.

"No need," says Batman, "I have my own methods. But thank you."

And with that, The Dark Knight turns and slips away into the shadows, where he disappears.

_War Journal: Entry #321_

_Monday April 11th , 2011 20:45_

_Another enemy cell has been eliminated. These soldiers were using costumes from The Wizard Of Oz as camouflage. Is nothing sacred? The Wizard Of Oz was my daughter's favorite story. I used to read it to her whenever I was home. The enemy paid for that insult. Found another enemy cell. This one is more fortified, going to to be tough to route them. Should take some time for strategize._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Bruce Wayne sits at The Bat Computer reading an extraordinarily thick police file. On the main screen in front of him are photos of Frank Castle, one of him in his Marine Dress Blues receiving The Congressional Medal Of Honor in 1972. The others are his mug shots from when he was arrested, tried, and convicted for multiple counts of first degree murder back in 1988. There is a list of names scrolling up one of the computers smaller screens to Bruce's left, and another list of names on another screen to his right. Alfred Pennyworth comes downstairs with a coffee cup and a metal thermos. He pours a cup of coffee for his employer and then sets it down in front of the billionaire.

"Oh my," says Alfred as he looks up at the pictures of Frank on the main screen, "Charming looking fellow."

"His name's Frank Castle," says Bruce, "Also known as _The Punisher_. Ex Marine special forces turned self styled vigilante in New York City."

"Is he the one doing all the killing in Gotham recently?"

"So far, he is the prime suspect," replies Bruce, "He fits the profile. Military background. Tragic personal loss in his history. Failed by The System. And he uses lethal force against those he goes after. Always lethal force, he gives no quarter to the criminal element."

"What are these?" asks Alfred, looking at the smaller screen to Bruce's left, "Aliases?"

"Victims," replies the billionaire, "All the criminals known to have been killed by The Punisher."

"And those others?" asks Alfred, pointing to the other screen to Wayne's right.

"Suspected victims," says Bruce, "Criminals who have been murdered or simply disappeared without a trace, with no confirmed suspects or perpetrators that match The Punisher's M.O."

"My word!" gasps the butler, "So many? The man must be utterly mad!"

"Actually," says Bruce, "He's quite sane. In 1973, Frank Castle came home from Vietnam on medical leave. He was severely injured when he was the only survivor when the North Vietnamese Army overran the fire base he was stationed at. When he was medically cleared to return to active duty, he took his wife and two children on a picnic in Central Park. While playing tag with his kids, they accidentally stumbled upon a mob execution. The hit men gunned down the whole family to protect their identities. The children both died at the scene. His wife died on the operating table at the hospital. Frank was the only survivor. He tried to get justice through The System, but the mob hit men were too well connected. They had air tight 'alibis' for the time of the shooting. Then they sent a hit man to kill Frank. He failed and was captured. Then they sent someone else to kill both Frank and the first hit man. The first would be killer died quickly. But when he tried to kill Frank, Castle threw him out a window. He survived, but he's so horribly deformed that he acquired the nickname 'Jigsaw'. Then Castle began his one-man-war against crime. In 1988, they police finally managed to capture him and put him on trial for multiple counts of murder. By that time he had accumulated a body count in the hundreds over just fifteen years. He was convicted and sent to Riker's Island for multiple consecutive life sentences. He escaped a few weeks later during a prison riot, and has been in the wind ever since."

"Dear Lord!" exclaims Alfred, "Are you sure he's not absolutely mad?"

"While he was incarcerated, they gave him every psychological test known to man," replies Bruce, "According to his test results, he's as sane as anyone walking the streets today. He's just pissed off. Very pissed off. He hates all those who prey on the weak and helpless. He sees them as the enemy. And he's a soldier. It's his job to search and destroy the enemy. It has been since he joined the marine corps just out of high school. He applies the same rationalization to his life as The Punisher. Which makes him very sane, but also very dangerous."

"Are you sure it's him?" asks Alfred.

"Reasonably sure," says Bruce, "A witness outside the bank earlier today said they saw a black panel van with New York license plates tailing The Scarecrow and his gang. The Punisher stays mainly in New York, although he has been known to travel to other parts of the country to track down a specific target. He's also known to drive a suped up black van which he refers to as The Battle Van. It essentially functions as a roaming headquarters, sleeping area, and armory. Between the steel outer shell and the interior is armor plating capable of stopping a 50 caliber bullet. The windows are all bullet resistant, and the tires are made of solid rubber. And despite all of that, it can still outrun most police vehicles because its engine has been tweaked to the point of that van being capable of towing a house. Frankly, his Battle Van is a very fast moving armored tank."

"Is that all you have to base your supposition on?" asks the butler.

"Not quite," says Bruce, "There is some confirmation," then the billionaire brings up the crime photos of The Scarecrow and his _Wizard Of Oz Gang _on the main computer. "You see the grouping of shots?" asks Bruce, "Crane and his two men were shot by an automatic shotgun. A full magazine holds over thirty rounds. Each of these men were hit at least a half dozen times before they fell. This says to me that the killer was an expert marksman, likely with a military background like Castle. But why so many shots? He could have used a pump action shotgun and killed them all just as dead."

"Perhaps he didn't want any of them to escape while he was ejecting the spent shells," suggests Alfred.

"I've thought of that," says Bruce, "But he could have easily set the gun on semi-automatic and fired one shot per squeeze of the trigger. Instead, he elected to put it on full auto and empty the magazine into all three men. And then he shoots Dorothy in the back with a Smith & Wesson 500 revolver as she's running away. That first shot severed her spine and nicked her aorta. She was already dead, or as good as, when he walked up to her and emptied the rest of the rounds into her back at point blank range. He had a smaller caliber sidearm, the one he used on their rottweiler, but he chose not to use it. Why?"

"They did something to anger him, I suppose," says Alfred, "I wonder what."

"I think I know," says Bruce.

He hands Alfred the police file he had been studying. In it is the original police report on the 1973 murder of the Castle family. It includes an inventory of the deceased's belongings. One of the items listed, was four ticket stubs from the movie theater. The name of the movie on the ticket stubs, _The Wizard Of Oz_. And after Frank Castle had gone A.W.O.L. and begun his life as The Punisher, the police found a copy of _The Wizard Of Oz_ in the daughter's bedroom. It had 'Merry Christmas, Love Mom & Dad, Christmas 1970' written inside the front cover. Alfred sighs.

"So it appears that _The Wizard Of Oz_ holds sentimental meaning to our coldblooded killer," he says.

"Looks like it," admits Bruce, "And Frank Castle has a history of being particularly brutal to criminals who target women or children. Child pornographers, abusive pimps, serial killers, he often makes their deaths particularly painful, messy, or even both."

"Like with Mr. Zsasz," says Alfred, "He could have simply shot him dead. But instead he disemboweled him by cutting extraordinarily deep tally marks into his abdomen."

"Exactly," says Bruce.

"Interesting hypothesis," says the butler, "But you are still lacking any real proof."

"I know," says Bruce, "He's been at this for a long time. He knows how to cover his tracks. He's good. _Really_ good."

"If it is Frank Castle," says Alfred, "would you be able to stop him?"

"He reserves lethal force for the criminal element," says Bruce, "He tends to avoid the police and other costumed vigilantes. If forced into a confrontation with them, he uses non lethal tactics and weapons. I'm sure I can take him in a hand to hand fight."

"Are you sure you want to?"

"I've drawn a line," replies Bruce, "One that I will not cross. One that should not be crossed. This is my city. These are my people. They are under my protection. Even the criminals. I will not let him cross that line in my city."

"Very good, sir," says Alfred, and he heads back upstairs to Wayne Manor.

Hotel Gemini. Once a magnificent hub of social activity in Gotham City. Now it's just a boarded up shell of its former self. Outside the rundown old building, security guards patrol the grounds wearing their bright yellow reflective uniform jackets. If one were to take a closer look at these guards, however, they would notice that those uniform jackets each have at least one bullet hole in them. Some have them in the front, others in the back, but all are grouped in the chest. Where ever these guards got there uniforms, it wasn't by getting hired at a security company.

Inside the Hotel Gemini, the place almost looks as though it is once again open for business. There are men and women in the lounge and the bar. The place is lit with numerous candles and oil lamps. Walking through the bar, a woman on either arm, is Harvey Dent. Better known as Two Face, he wears a custom made suit which is white on one side and black on the other. His left hand and the left side of his face are horribly scarred by acid. Even the hair on one side of his head had turned white.

The women on his arm are identical twins. Former adult film stars, they go by their stage names of Sodom and Gomorrah. They were blackballed from the adult film industry when their drug fueled partying ways made them unreliable on set. They then turned to a life of crime in order to feed their drug habits. That is where they first met Two Face. Now they remain by his side as his arm candy, as long as he maintains their steady supply of drugs.

"So," says Two Face to one of his men, "How's business?"

"Pretty good, boss," says the thug, "We got money comin' in from drugs, racketeering, and prostitution. Penguin's givin' us a good deal on all our stolen merchandise. As long as The Bat don't shut us down, we're lookin' at makin' a tidy profit."

"I ain't worried about The Bat," says Two Face, "It's this new guy. He don't pull no punches. You put extra men on security detail like I told you?"

"Sure did, boss," says the thug, "Recruited a whole damn street gang. Got 'em dressed up in stolen security uniforms so they look legit. And everyone here is packin'. If someone gets past the boys outside, there'll be Hell waitin' for 'em when they get in here."

"Good," says Two Face, "Keep it up. We're going to my room. And we're _not_ to be disturbed."

"You got it, boss."

Two Face, Sodom, and Gomorrah leave the hired thugs to their work. Outside, one of the fake security guards stops to light a cigarette. As the flame from his windproof lighter touches the end of the cigarette, and the smoke flares to life, a muzzle flash flares in the distance and the guard's life is snuffed out. Another guard walks around the corner. He sees his buddy lying on the ground. Quick as he can, he reaches for his radio. He isn't quicker than a bullet though, and he's soon lying next to his dead friend. A third guard comes around the corner and takes a bullet to the head, joining his companions in death.

The Punisher puts his rifle away and sprints across the empty parking lot. He takes out his silenced Beretta.9 mm handgun and creeps about the perimeter of the building. One by one he discovers gangbangers wearing stolen security uniforms. One by one, he guns them down. Soon, all of the perimeter guards have been eliminated. The Punisher removes his leather trench coat and puts on the hat and coat of one of the guards he had just killed. He then turns and heads for the main doors.

Inside, two thugs are sitting in the hall outside the lounge playing cards. One of them looks up to see what he believes is one of the hired street gang members from outside approaching them.

"You're supposed to call in on the radio," he says to the him, "Why ain't ya outside?"

Instead of answering, The Punisher simply pulls out his Beretta and shoots each man through the head. Then the vigilante removes his disguise and pulls out an M-203 machine gun with attached grenade launcher. He kicks open the lounge doors and walks in firing. The first few hired thugs went down quickly as the attack happened too quickly for them to react. Once they had regained their composure, they all started pulling out weapons and firing back. Having no delusions of invulnerability, The Punisher makes a dash towards the bar, firing at the thugs as he runs. Just as he reaches the bar, Frank pauses long enough to launch the grenade, killing several thugs who had clustered behind the same cover.

The Punisher dives behind the bar, where he discovers another thug hiding from the carnage. Frank pulls out his Smith & Wesson 500 revolver and shoots the thug right between the eyes. Bottles and mirrored glass shatter all over Castle as the remaining thugs all shoot up the bar. Frank calmly reloads the grenade launcher and pops a fresh clip into the rifle. He then takes out a hand grenade, pulls the pin, and tosses it out at the thugs. The grenade explodes, causing as much confusion as actual damage. The second the explosion ends, Frank pops up behind the bar shooting at will. After the initial assault and the two grenades, there are very few thugs left. As most of them have no formal training in weapons or military tactics, their aim is less than perfect and their discipline is nonexistent. The last few thugs fall easily to The Punisher's superior marksmanship. The last couple of thugs are hiding behind a pile of boxes of stolen stereo equipment. Frank's bullets can't break through their cover, not soon anyway, so he shoots it with a grenade. The stereo equipment explodes, killing the thugs hiding behind it. Frank Castle then takes out an emergency road flare, lights it, tosses it onto the floor behind the bar, and walks away. With all of the broken bottles of potent liquor scattered about, the flames soon spread and grow very high.

While Two Face's soldiers had The Punisher pinned down, one of the thugs managed to run out of the lounge. He runs up the stairs two at a time. Eventually he slows down, climbing the stairs one at a time, huffing and puffing.

"He had . . . to take . . . the twentieth . . . floor." he says.

He notices that the shooting downstairs had stopped. He figures that means that the fight's over, although who won he's not sure. Not willing to wait and find out, just in case it wasn't his fellow enforcers, he picks up the pace. Finally he makes it to the twentieth floor. There are two guards on this floor. They're large, muscular identical twins. Once they were pro wrestlers, but like the twin porn stars, their heavy partying prematurely ended a promising career. Now they feed their massive drug habits, which among other things includes Bane's super steroid known as _Venom_.

"What the Hell's goin' on down there?" asks one twin.

"Sounds like World War III," says the other.

"That . . . vigilante," says the thug, "The one . . . killin' everyone . . . He's . . . here."

"So he's dead?" asks one of the twins.

"Dunno . . . maybe," admits the thug, "Or . . . he might . . . be on . . . his way up."

"Should we wake the boss?" asks one twin.

"He said he didn't want to be disturbed," says the other.

"Does he want to be shot on his feet, or in his bed?" asks the thug who had just managed to catch his breath.

"Why?" asks the first twin.

"Because whoever this guy is in the skull shirt is, I doubt that he'll care if Two Face is awake or asleep when he shoots him in the face."

"Good point," says the twin.

He takes a moment, a deep breath, then knocks on Two Face's door.

"What is it?" asks Two Face, "I specifically said NO INTERUPTIONS!"

"The killer vigilante," says the twin, "I think he's on his way up."

"Then stop him!" says Two Face, "What do you think I'm payin' you for?"

"Right boss!"

The twin pulls out his syringe of Venom and injects it into his arm. His brother quickly does likewise. They both pull out pump action 12 gauge shotguns, and aim them down the hall. The thug who ran up the stairs to warn them pulls out a .44 magnum and aims it down the the hall as well. Minutes later they see a figure coming around the corner. They quickly open fire on him, emptying their weapons at the vigilante. They quickly start reloading their weapons. As they try to finish loading the guns, The Punisher steps out into the hallway. He had managed to duck out of their line of fire and waited for them to reload. He aims his grenade launcher down the hall at the thugs and fires, killing all three of them.

The Punisher drops his M-203 automatic assault rifle, draws his Smith & Wesson 500, and walks down the hall. The door to Two Face's suite has been blown off its hinges. Castle walks through the door. Sodom and Gomorrah are standing there, in their underwear, in fighting stances. Two Face is behind them, wearing his dress shirt and boxers, holding a double barreled shotgun.

"We warn you!" says Sodom.

"We know karate!" adds Gomorrah.

The Punisher shoots them each in the head. "I know Smith & Wesson," he says.

"You son of a bitch!" shouts Two Face, and he empties both barrels into the skull emblem on his chest.

Frank slams against the wall and slides down to the floor. Two Face breaks open the shotgun and empties the spent shells. Pulling two fresh shells out of his breast pocket, he reloads the shotgun. The second he snaps the shotgun closed, Castle raises his revolver and empties the last three bullets into Dent's chest. The force of the gunshots knocks Two Face right out of the Presidential Suite window, to fall twenty stories down to the concrete below. As Frank gets back to his feet, he can hear police and firetruck sirens in the distance and getting louder. The vigilante holsters his revolver, grabs his assault rifle, and heads up to the roof. He climbs down the fire escape, runs to The Battle Van, and drives off as fast as he can without drawing suspicion to himself.

Batman arrives on the scene only a minute after Frank had left Hotel Gemini. He quickly checks the pulse of some of the guards that lay dead outside, just in case. It was a moot point, as each of them had been shot at least once in the head or three times in the heart. As he's checking one body next to the hotel's main entrance, The Dark Knight feels something dripping on the back of his neck. He looks up to see what it is. There's a bloody hand dangling off of the canvas awning over top of the entrance. Batman takes a couple of steps back, and sees the battered and bloodied body of Two Face lying on the canvas. Batman grabs the former lawyer's hand and drags him off of the awning. As Harvey Dent hits the ground, he lets out a groan.

"He's still alive?" whispers Batman in shock.

Despite Two Face's horrible injuries, Batman drags him away from the burning hotel, which is rapidly becoming a raging inferno. He lies him down on the cold wet ground as gently as he can. Two Face moans in agony.

"Harvey," says Batman, "Who did this to you?"

"_Don't . . . know_," says Dent in a very week voice, "_Never . . . saw him . . . before_."

"What did he look like?" asks the Caped Crusader.

"_Wore . . . black. Body . . . armor. Like . . . S.W.A.T. . . . armor. Big . . . white . . . skull . . . on . . . chest_."

"Anything else?" asks Batman.

"_Help . . . me_."

"I will old friend," says Batman, "I promise."

Just then, an ambulance arrives. The paramedics jump out and immediately begin working on the injured Two Face. Also arriving are the firetrucks and Gotham Police Department. Commissioner Gordon and Detective Bullock get out of their cars. They see Batman and run right over. Officer Montoya immediately begins the crowd control.

"Who got hit this time?" asks Gordon.

"Harvey Dent," says Batman in his usual raspy voice.

"Two Face, eh?" says Bullock, "Figures."

"You figure out who did it?" asks Gordon.

"It's Frank Castle alright," replies Batman.

"How d' ya know?" asks Bullock.

"Harvey told me," says Batman, "He's not quite dead, although he is hurt very bad. I doubt he'll make it through the night."

"How bad was he hurt?" asks Gordon.

"Looks like he was shot and then fell out a window," says Batman, "And knowing Two Face, he likely took the Presidential Suite as his residence, as it's on the twentieth floor. Only reason the bullets didn't kill him is he was wearing a bullet proof vest under his shirt, and the fall didn't kill him because he landed on the canvas awning. The impact likely broke damn near every bone in his body though. Even if he survives his injuries, he may never be the same again."

"Damn," says Bullock, "I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard."

"He was a good man once, Harvey," Gordon reminds the detective, "Remember that."

"I only pray he gets the help he needs," says Batman, "Perhaps his run in with The Punisher will teach him the error of his ways."

"So you're sure it's him then?" asks the commissioner.

"He fits the description Harvey gave me," says Batman, "And the signature and modus operendi both fit."

"So what are ya gonna do about it?" asks Bullock.

"Stop him," comes the reply.

With that, The Batman stalks away into the deepening gloom of the night, leaving Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock in the flickering light of the burning hotel.

_War Journal: Entry #322_

_Wednesday April 20th, 2011 01:20_

_Tonight's mission was a success. I successfully eliminated an entire enemy cell. I have suffered some minor injuries. Took two shotgun blasts to the chest. The body armor held. Good thing the enemy always aims for the skull. May have a few bruised ribs. Will have to recover before going after my next target. Hopefully no more than a week._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_War Journal: Entry #323_

_Thursday, April 28, 2011 17:45_

_Recovered from my fight with Two Face. Learned on my police scanner that he survived. Too bad. Too risky to make another attempt to finish the job. He'll be surrounded by police. Can't risk killing any innocents in another attack. Found another enemy hideout today. Subject is targeted for extermination tomorrow night. Have to lay low tonight. The police have put out an A.P.B. on me. Either they or The Batman have deduced who I am. No matter. My mission is still the same. Search and destroy._

In the Bat Cave, Batman is sitting at his Bat Computer once more, puzzling over The Punisher. Alfred is busy dusting the many trophies that his employer has accumulated over the years as The Batman. Batman is looking at the list of names of all those who had been killed since Frank Castle had come to Gotham City. Victor Zsasz, "Killer Croc" Waylon Jones, "The Ventriloquist" Arnold Wesker, and "The Scarecrow" Jonathan Crane are all dead. And "Two Face" Harvey Dent is now in critical condition at Gotham General Hospital, under heavy guard. Alfred walks up behind his employer and looks at the screen.

"Four dead in as many weeks, and not a clue as to his whereabouts?" says the butler.

"Much more than four," corrects Batman, "These are all just the ones who are former residents at Arkham Asylum."

"Where will you look next?"

"All this time I've been looking for Frank Castle," says Batman, "That has been my mistake. He's too good, too smart to make himself an easy catch. I've got to figure out who he's going after next."

"Who's left of the criminals who had escaped from Arkham?" asks Alfred.

"Only the ones who instigated the breakout," says Batman.

"The Joker and Harley Quin."

"Right. And as crazy as they are, they're also somewhat predictable."

"They always hide out in abandoned gag shops don't they?" asks Alfred.

"Or circuses, clown colleges, candy factories. Anywhere clowns aren't out of place."

"Then if you can find Joker and Miss Quin before this Castle fellow does . . ."

"I can use them as bait to flush The Punisher out of hiding."

"Very good, sir," says Alfred, "Is there anything more you'll need from me this evening?"

"No, thank you Alfred."

"Then I shall retire for the evening if you don't mind."

"Not at all," says Batman.

"Goodnight, sir," says the butler.

"Goodnight, Alfred," replies Batman, and Alfred takes his leave.

The Dark Knight goes onto his computer and begins looking up the addresses of any places where The Joker would choose as a hideout.

Friday night, April 29th, 2011. The Punisher is kneeling on top of an old, abandoned apartment building. He has an M-107 50 caliber rifle set up on a bipod, and is looking through the telescopic sight at a building several hundred yards up the block. There, in the window, he sees The Joker's girlfriend, Harley Quin, wearing her customary skin tight black and red court jester's costume. Her face is painted up like a clown's. The Punisher has her right in his sights, the cross-hairs of his scope coming together just over her heart. He holds his fire, waiting for his primary target. He sees him a moment later. The Joker come into view and appears to be playfully tickling his lover. Harley Quin laughs and runs away from the window, and The Joker gives chase, disappearing from view. The Punisher sits and waits.

"Don't do it Frank," says a raspy voice from behind.

"I figured you'd find me sooner or later," says The Punisher as he sets the rifle down and rises to his feet. "Although to be honest," he says as he turns around, "I kinda thought it would be sooner."

"I can't let you continue killing people in my city Castle," says Batman, "You know I have to stop you."

"I know you have to try," he replies.

"Why don't you end all of this?" asks Batman, "Let me take you in."

"War isn't over yet. Still too many of the enemy walking the streets."

"We're not at war," argues Batman, "There is no enemy."

"We are," counters Punisher, "And there is. You hear about it all the time on TV. Read about it in the newspapers. '_Police continuing the war on crime_'. '_War on drugs continues_'. The police don't want to fight this war to win it. Just like 'Nam, they're satisfied with the status quo."

"You can't just arbitrarily go around killing people!" says Batman, "There are some lines that you just don't cross!"

"You aren't the one who draws those lines," replies Punisher, "They are. They tell you, 'If you wanna stop me, you're gonna have to kill me.' And you say 'No.' I say, 'You want it, you got it.'"

"Look, Frank," says Batman as he tries changing tactics, "I know why you're doing this. I know all about you and your family. It's a tragedy that never should have happened. But no matter how many criminals you kill, you're never going to bring them back."

"I know," he replies, "Just like no matter how many times you send Joker to Arkham, it's never gonna bring your parents back. Will it . . . _Bruce_?"

"What did you call me?"

"Don't act so shocked," says Punisher, "You can't fight this war as long as I have without becoming somewhat of a detective as well. Most people who dress up in tights to fight crime either did it because some freak accident had granted them super human powers and they believe that with great power comes great responsibility . . ."

"Sounds like someone I know in Metropolis."

" . . . Or they suffered a tragic loss and the system failed them. You have no super powers, which means you're likely the latter. The Batman rarely travels outside of Gotham City, which means you're likely a local. Gotham is over run by crime and corruption, so finding the names of people who had survived violent crimes is all too easy. But your fancy gadgetry must cost a fortune. And crime fighting takes up so much time that one could never hold down a nine to five job and work as a career vigilante. That means you're independently wealthy. The only person who lives in Gotham City that fits that criteria is billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne."

"That's an interesting deduction," says Batman.

"There is corroborating evidence," says Punisher, "Like the fact that the few times The Batman shows up in other places around the world, Bruce Wayne is always conveniently in the same area 'on business'. I'm just surprised that the local police haven't figured it out yet. They're either monumentally stupid, or they just don't give a fuck."

"Clever," says Batman, "But it doesn't change the fact that I can't let you kill Joker and Harley Quin."

"Why not?" asks Punisher, "How long have you and The Joker been at each others throats? How many times has he been thrown into Arkham Asylum only to break out again soon after? How many people does he kill before you can catch him and put him away again? How many lives would have been saved had you simply killed him when you first met him? All those men, women, children, who are dead because of that lunatic? Their blood is on your hands as much as The Joker's."

"I know," says Batman, "I have to live with that every day. But that doesn't make your way right. Just easier."

"I don't want to have to fight you, Batman," says The Punisher.

"Then don't," says The Dark Knight, "Let me take you in quietly. I'll find you the best defense attorney in the country."

"I can't do that," says Frank, "Still too many of the enemy out there. The war's not over. Not by a long shot."

"I'm sorry," says Batman.

"Me too," replies The Punisher.

Batman quickly pulls a batarang out of his utility belt and throws it at The Punisher. Frank dives out of the way, going into a forward roll and coming back up to his feet. He then gets a running start at Batman, leaps up and attempts to deliver a flying kick to The Dark Knight's face. Batman too, ducks out of the way, causing Frank to sprawl onto the rooftop when he lands. Quick as a cat, The Punisher springs back to his feet. The two of them circle each other, hands at the ready, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Punisher throws a punch at Batman. The Dark Knight blocks it, then retaliates with an elbow to Frank's jaw. Before he can recover, Batman grabs him by the arm and throws him over his shoulder. Punisher hits hard, but quickly kicks Batman in the face to break the contact. As soon as The Caped Crusader lets go of Frank's wrist, Castle rolls to the side and regains his footing. He puts his hands back up in a ready position, and Batman does likewise.

Batman comes at Punisher now, delivering a front kick to his abdomen, then a spinning side kick to his chest, knocking castle against the fire exit door. Batman then goes for a thrust kick to the head, in an attempt to knock The Punisher out quickly, but Frank moves out of the way and Batman hits nothing but the heavy steel door. The Punisher immediately grabs Batman's extended leg, with the ankle resting on his shoulder and being held in place by his left hand, and then brings his right elbow down onto the leg, hyper-extending the knee. The Dark Knight cries out in pain as his knee bends in a most unnatural way. Then Frank shoves him down onto the rooftop. Batman rolls away and comes back up onto his feet, with a very noticeable limp in his right leg. They once again begin circling each other.

"You're good," says The Punisher.

"So are you," admits Batman.

"Kung fu?" asks Frank.

"Ninjitsu," replies Batman, "And you?"

"Marine Corps," says Frank.

"No specific style?"

"Whatever works."

Batman comes at Frank with a punch aimed at the face. However, with his knee injured, his delivery isn't what it should be, and Castle avoids it. The Punisher blocks the punch, twists Batman's arm, then locks him in a sleeper hold. Batman knows that if he doesn't escape this hold quickly, he'll pass out and will be unable to keep The Punisher from killing The Joker and Harley Quin. As a last ditch effort, The Dark Knight grabs Frank by the hair, leaps up, then brings both of his knees up over his head to crack Frank right in the forehead. It wasn't the most effective maneuver, but it did stun Castle enough to allow Batman to break free of the sleeper hold. He tumbles out of reach and then squares off against The Punisher once more.

"Clever," says Frank as he shakes off the effects of Batman's knees hitting his face, "I'll have to remember that one in the future."

"Thank you," replies Batman, himself recovering from the effects of The Punisher's sleeper hold.

Punisher charges right at Batman. Despite his injured leg, Batman manages to sidestep the vigilante's charge. The Punisher collides face first with the steel fire exit door. Batman comes up behind him and delivers a series of punches to The Punisher's lower back and kidney region. Castle tries to deliver a wild elbow to Batman's face, but The Dark Knight ducks under it and drives his shoulder into The Punisher's abdomen. He then hits Frank with a hard uppercut, knocking the back of Frank's head against the door. But when he tries for a right cross to Frank's face, Castle instinctively ducks causing Batman's fist to collide with the metal door. Batman cries out in pain as he feels the bones in his hand fracture and he backs off a step. Punisher throws a haymaker punch, knocking Batman down to his knees.

As Batman tries to regain his footing, Punisher takes a few steps forward and kicks him in the ribs. He tries to rise again, and The Punisher kicks him in the head. Again, The Caped Crusader tries to rise. And again, The Punisher kicks him back down.

"Stay . . . down," says Frank as he sees Batman stubbornly trying to rise again.

"_No_," comes the reply.

The Punisher kneels on Batmans's chest. Then he pulls back and punches The Dark Knight in the face. Then again. And again. And again. And again. Until finally, Batman stops trying to get up. The Punisher takes off one of his gloves and presses two fingers to the side of Batman's neck. He breathes a sigh of relief as he feels a strong pulse beneath his fingers. He didn't kill him. Good. He removes Batman's utility belt, then proceeds to tie him up.

Sometime later, Batman awakens to find himself heavily bound with rope to a defunct air conditioning unit. He sees his utility belt lying on the rooftop, about a yard away from his foot. Duct taped to Batman's hand is a Glock-17 handgun with laser sighting. Batman notices that the weapon is unusually light. His left hand is left unbound just enough to aim the weapon. Over by the edge of the building, Batman sees The Punisher kneeling down, looking through the sight of his M-107 sniper rifle.

"_Castle_?" says Batman, his voice horse from having been knocked unconscious.

"About time you woke up," says Frank, "I didn't want you to miss this."

"_What are you doing_?"

"The same thing I was doing when you first arrived here," he says, "Getting ready to eliminate The Joker and his girlfriend."

"_What's with the pistol_?"

"You're gonna have to kill me in order to stop me," says Frank, "There's one round in the chamber. I'm wearing body armor, so you're gonna have to make it a head shot. You only have the one shot, so make it count."

"_What_?"

"If you don't pull the trigger, you're gonna have to live with the knowledge that someone else died because you couldn't do it."

"_What kind of choice is that_?"

"The same one I make," says Castle, "Every time I pull the trigger."

The Punisher lines up his shot. Harley Quin is standing in the window wearing nothing but her bra and panties. Black lacy things that she most likely bought (or stole) to entice The Joker. Apparently it worked, because The Joker comes up behind her and embraces her tenderly. She turns around and they kiss. He leads her off to the side, out of sight from the window. He sees Harley's underwear go flying as either she or Joker throws it across the room.

The Punisher quickly removes the telescopic scope off of the M-107 and replaces it with a TWS-X20 thermal weapon sight scope. He turns it on the scope and looks through it. He sees the heat signatures of Joker and Harley as they're making love. Joker obviously has Harley pressed up against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. The Punisher places the cross-hairs of the sight right between Harley's shoulder blades. Batman points the gun towards Castle, the red dot of the laser resting on the back of his head.

"Last chance," says Frank.

"_For God's sake_," says Batman, "_Please don't make me do this_."

"I told you," says Castle, "You only have one way to stop me."

The Punisher lines up his shot. Batman aims the laser at the back of Frank's head. The Punisher gently begins to squeeze the trigger of his M-107. Batman begins to squeeze the trigger of his Glock-17. There's a loud 'crack' as they squeeze their triggers. Batman looks on in horror as his weapon doesn't fire. The Punisher looks through the scope of his rifle with satisfaction, as he sees The Joker's heat signature backing away, and Harley Quin slumps to the floor. He fires again, this time hitting Joker directly. Joker falls to the floor. The Punisher fires one more time, hitting Harley Quin in the back of the head. Then he picks up the rifle and turns to face Batman.

"_You son of a bitch_," says Batman, "_There never was any bullets in that gun_."

'Oh, it had one in the pipe alright," replies Punisher, "It just doesn't have a firing pin."

"_Then what the hell was the point_?"

"A split second before I pulled the trigger, I heard you pull your trigger. You and I, we're more alike than you think. And if the criminals here knew that, then maybe you can finally start doing some real good."

"_I won't be tied up like this forever,_" says Batman, "_I'll stop you_."

"Not before I leave town," replies The Punisher, "And I intend to do so tonight. Before you can free yourself."

Frank Castle kicks Batman's utility belt towards him, making it easier for him to reach. Then he turns and walks over to the fire escape and begins climbing down the old iron ladder.

"So long Bruce," he says, "Perhaps we'll meet again."

"_Count on it_," says Batman to the departing figure.

Back at the Bat Cave, Bruce Wayne is sitting on his medical examination table as Alfred administers to his duties as Batman's personal medic. He bandages up the billionaire's injured hand and leg. Sets his broken nose, and wraps up his injured ribs. Bruce winces as Alfred tightens the bandage around his employer's chest.

"My apologies, sir," says the butler, "But it must be tight if it's to allow your ribs to heal properly."

"Don't worry Alfred," says Bruce, "It's fine."

"You seem troubled," says the old gentleman, "Upset that you lost?"

"Not at all," replies Mr. Wayne, "I never expected Frank Castle to go down easily. He is a marine after all."

"_Ex_ marine," corrects the butler, putting the emphasis on the 'ex' part.

"There is no such thing as an ex marine, Alfred," says Bruce, "The Corps has a saying, 'Once a marine, always a marine'."

"Very good, sir," replies Alfred, "Then what, pray tell, is bothering you?"

"I pulled the trigger," says Bruce, "I was actually willing to break my vow in order to stop The Punisher from killing The Joker and Harley Quin."

"But the gun was disabled," says Alfred.

"That doesn't matter," replies Bruce, "For years I have refused to take a life, believing that that's what sets me apart from the criminals that I hunt. But tonight, I almost broke that vow. I was actually willing to take a man's life to save another. And whose life would I have been saving? The Joker's? The man who murdered Jason Todd and God only knows how many others? Or Harley Quin? She killed every guard, nurse, and orderly at Arkham during that last break out! Yet I was willing to kill in order to save _their_ lives."

"Please, sir," says the butler, "Don't go reading too much into what happened. You were put into an impossible situation. And people are capable of doing all sorts of things while under duress. And you are no exception. I am very proud of you. I have _always_ been _very_ proud of you. And tonight is no exception."

"Thank you Alfred," says Bruce.

"Here," says Alfred, "I'll help you up into your bed. Things will look better in the morning after a good night's rest. You'll see."

"Again, thank you."

"Just doing my duty, sir," says Alfred, and he helps the billionaire up into the mansion above and into bed."

_War Journal: Entry #324_

_Friday, April 29th, 2011 23:45_

_The enemies known as Joker and Harley Quin have been eliminated. Had a run in with the vigilante known as Batman. He's tough. I think he may have been holding back, as his reputation suggests he should have been able to defeat me in hand to hand combat. But I've eliminated all of his high profile enemies, at least those who aren't currently locked up. Making a strategic withdrawal, before Batman or the local authorities can catch up to me. I'll leave the street level thugs to Batman for the next little while. Once his high profile enemies return, so will I._

Under the cover of darkness, The Punisher drives his Battle Van out of Gotham City limits and heads off down the highway.

**THE END**


End file.
